


Undone

by onward_came_the_meteors



Series: October 2020 Prompts [18]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Bruce Banner Feels, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Gen, One Shot, POV Third Person, Post-Avengers (2012), Team Dynamics, Tony Stark Is a Good Bro
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-18
Updated: 2020-10-18
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:48:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27082192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onward_came_the_meteors/pseuds/onward_came_the_meteors
Summary: Bruce Banner and panic rays don't mix well.
Relationships: Bruce Banner & Avengers Team, Bruce Banner & Tony Stark
Series: October 2020 Prompts [18]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1947679
Comments: 6
Kudos: 37





	Undone

**Author's Note:**

> Day 18, for the prompt "paranoia"

Bruce Banner’s first thought when he shot awake was that he was in  _ danger _ .

And considering his second thought was him becoming aware that he was sitting in six inches of ice cold water in a river in the middle of nowhere, with no sign of the rest of the team or indeed, any civilization at all, that probably said something about just how urgent that first thought seemed.

Bruce blinked as fast as he could, trying to clear away the blurriness, but his eyes didn’t want to cooperate. Everything was a smear of color until it finally settled into recognizable shapes. 

Dirt. Trees. Sky. Mud. River. Rocks. And him, sprawled in the center of it all—the one thing that didn’t belong.

Unfortunately,  _ recognizable  _ didn’t mean the same thing as  _ familiar. _

_ What happened? _

It only made his already-too-fast breathing pick up when he realized he didn’t know.

And sometimes there were clues—there was  _ damage,  _ there was  _ destruction _ , there was a crater of wreckage built up high around him—that he could put the pieces together, but this time there was only wide emptiness and the low splashing of the water in the riverbed. And no Steve walking up to give the report, no Natasha waiting calmly beside him as he transformed back, no Clint sliding down out of a tree or a fire escape or whatever improbably high place he’d found to perch from, no Thor giving an enthusiastic rundown of the Hulk’s exploits, no Tony swooping down in the suit and ready with some ridiculous quip.

No, none of them were here, and  _ why aren’t they here, what happened to them,  _ did  _ something happen— _

Bruce’s hand splashed backwards into the river behind him and he gasped. It was freezing cold, and that was just enough to shock him into pushing himself to his feet.

The world spun for a moment, gray spots flickering in front of his eyes before he steadied himself. He couldn’t pass out, not right now. He couldn’t stay here any longer than he already had.

Taking careful steps, Bruce picked his way out of the river and onto muddy but solid ground, glancing around him at every noise. Something was wrong, he knew it, and he had to get out of here before it was too late.

The breeze hadn’t felt quite so chilly when he was sitting down, but now that he was up and moving, it might as well have been a knife slicing into his skin. He was suddenly very aware of the fact that his only clothing was a torn pair of pants that had just barely survived the transformation.

He stumbled forward, his bare feet slipping over rocks and mud but his mind hardly even registering it—because only one thing mattered right now and it was  _ getting out getting out getting away _ .

He had to get away, because something was going to happen, something was wrong, and  _ he’d thought that already _ but he seemed stuck on the same pattern, the same spool of thinking that spiraled out and bubbled higher until it threatened to spill over completely.

It was still there, the tingle of adrenaline that ran like an undercurrent beneath his skin just after a transformation. It was pure potential energy, he knew, and right now with his heartbeat pounding in his ears and his breath catching at every snap of a twig, every crack of a branch, every skittering of pebbles on the ground… well. If he wasn’t so exhausted, maybe it wouldn’t be him fumbling through this forest.

_ This isn’t normal something is wrong yeah but something is wrong with YOU and that’s really, really, not good— _

No. No, there was a good reason to be so panicked, there was, because there was something dangerous and it was coming and it was here and it was coming  _ fast _ —

_ And wasn’t it ironic that he was running from danger now when he had been the danger himself for so long— _

His vision flashed green, and he would’ve stopped moving if he hadn’t been terrified that once he allowed himself to stop, he wouldn’t be able to start again. Every muscle in his body had just been stretched and stretched and stretched and ripped apart, torn inside out and shoved back in again; and now it was an effort just to force his legs to  _ not _ buckle beneath him.

_ This forest probably seemed a lot smaller to the Other Guy, _ was his nonsensical thought as he finally staggered through a clump of bushes and into a spacious clearing.

Spacious enough, anyway, for the quinjet to be parked.

It didn’t look like anyone was there, although the door was open and the ramp lowered invitingly—or just stupidly—against the ground. Bruce stared up at the open circle of sky, where narrow clouds were cutting their way across the sun, and shivered.

That’s when he felt someone coming up behind him.

Bruce jumped, whipping around so fast he nearly fell over. His pulse spiked and green flared across his vision again before he realized who it was.

“Oh, it’s you.” He tried to keep his voice steady, and failed miserably.

Tony lowered the faceplate of the Iron Man suit, revealing raised eyebrows. “‘Course it is. What, did you think I was Captain America?”

Bruce shook his head. Things were starting to blur again, and he wasn’t sure if it was because he didn’t have his glasses or because his shivering was getting worse. “I… I don’t know.”

Tony frowned and took a step closer, the workings of his suit whirring as he did so. Bruce instinctively moved away and Tony stopped.

“I really wish you’d quit running off like that after a fight,” Tony continued, keeping his voice light even as his expression betrayed his concern. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you liked having all of us worrying over you.” He paused, looking Bruce up and down. “ _ Do _ you need worrying over? And, to be clear, that’s a yes or no question.”

“I…” Bruce said again, and that was when his legs finally decided to give out, and he listed sideways.

A split-second later, he was being steadied by two metal-encased arms, and Tony was leaning over him, his mouth moving as though he was talking, but Bruce didn’t hear any of it. Because the moment the suit touched his skin, his brain seemed to short-circuit, sending frantic messages to  _ move get away stop DANGER. _

Tony didn’t seem to pick up on any of this, though, and Bruce managed to catch the tail end of whatever he was saying as the arms slowly began to guide him forward.

“—anyway, it’s time to get you back to the jet.”

“No.” The word burst out of Bruce’s mouth before he knew he was saying it, before he could articulate a justification for it. But now Tony was looking at him oddly, and he had to say  _ something _ , if only his brain would work— “What about… what about the fight?”

“Fight’s over, buddy.” Tony was still giving him that look. He wished he would stop.

“But…” Bruce trailed off, and apparently he didn’t have to describe the way he’d woken up with utter  _ panic _ , the way his only memories involved searing flashes and roars wrenching from his throat, how he still couldn’t seem to get his body to  _ calm down _ , because Tony was already launching into an explanation.

“Oh, yeah; today’s bad guy wheeled out some kind of neuro-wave-pulse ray once he finished up with the usual speech about how he was gonna ‘tear apart the Avengers,’ yada-yada; you obviously had no problem smashing up the thing in about five seconds, but that was about when you took off.” Tony paused. “It didn’t hit you or anything, did it? I didn’t think something made without even a properly-insulated connector would have any effect on the big guy, but, ah…” He watched Bruce for another moment and evidently came to a conclusion. “Guess I can be wrong sometimes.”

“Well, this is a fun way to find that out,” Bruce said under his breath.

They continued walking up to the quinjet, Tony still keeping an arm around Bruce that almost made him jump again every time it shifted and the touch raked against his skin. He wanted to peel himself away, to hunker down inside the quinjet and bury his head down so far that he couldn’t see anything, or he wanted to keep running as fast and as far as he could through the forest until he was so well hidden that not even JARVIS would be able to find him.

With every step, Tony’s arm was only jostled more, and the mounting panic was getting harder and harder to tamp down. He was starting to wonder if there was a way he could shrug Tony off without either being rude or letting on that he was freaking the fuck out (even though he was absolutely freaking the fuck out and he had to stop doing that but he couldn’t stop doing that but he had to but he shouldn’t actually because remember the danger), when halfway up the ramp, Bruce tripped on an uneven part, sending Tony’s arm sliding an entire inch over, and Bruce flinched so hard he was surprised he didn’t fall off the edge.

“Hey, what’s wrong? Are you cold? Shit, you look cold, I’m such an asshole, but I think we’ve got a couple things inside, unless you blew through the emergency clothes already.”

Bruce shook his head. Really, his entire body was shaking, his head was just doing it the most. “Nothing,” he said, and then he couldn’t help adding, “Just, can you—”

“ _ Oh _ ,” Tony interrupted. “I mean, sure thing, I would, but, uh—are you sure you’re good to walk on your own right now?”

Bruce shot him a look, the best one he could under the circumstances, which he had the feeling wasn’t that good. “‘Course I am.”

Tony looked skeptical, but he did let go, and the resulting rush of relief when the contact left his skin was outweighed when Bruce immediately had to catch himself on the side of the quinjet door.

_ It’s fine. We’re good, we’re fine, come on, get in. _

He repeated the words to himself as they entered the quinjet, which was a little spooky when it was completely empty instead of full of arguing or laughing or suiting-up teammates. He hoped they were okay—they had to be, Tony would’ve mentioned something, and right now his focus was one hundred percent on Bruce.

Which was somehow reassuring and unsettling at the same time.

Bruce barely managed a few seconds swaying in the center of the jet before he was collapsing onto a seat, the river water that was still dripping off him forming a puddle on top of it. Staying in the seat lasted about five seconds, however, as Bruce had hardly drawn in a breath before the panic was shooting through his brain again and what was he doing he couldn’t sit down, couldn’t rest when he had to be moving, when he had to be—

Transforming?

No, no, he couldn’t do that either—

The growl in the back of his mind said otherwise, though, as Bruce struggled back up into a standing position, the spots in front of his eyes nothing to the sudden blinding need to  _ get away— _

Tony’s voice filtered in through the ragged thoughts. He was out of the suit now, letting it fold up into a suitcase. “What are you doing now? Sit down, the team’ll be here any sec.”

“Can’t,” Bruce managed. His hand was gripping the door frame—if the door were raised right now it would be sliced off—and the pounding of his heart seemed to echo through every one of his veins.

“What are you  _ talking _ about?” Tony’s pocket vibrated and he glanced quickly at Bruce before pulling out his phone and answering it. He started talking before whoever it was that had called him could even get a word out. “Listen, you guys can call it off now, okay? I found him. Sort of, he’s on the jet… Yeah, fun-size version… No, here’s the thing, he’s kinda—” Tony broke off once he saw Bruce start to struggle back out the door and cupped his hand around the phone, mouthing  _ “sit  _ down  _ before you pass out” _ before returning to the call. “No, not yet, but it would be great if you guys could get back here before sundown, because I am  _ not _ letting mosquitoes in this jet… What was that? … I don’t care, Barton, just get your ass over here.”

Tony hung up and turned back to Bruce, who at the moment was sagging back against the wall. “Okay, then.” He ran his hand through his hair, muttering something that sounded like  _ “what the fuck am I supposed to do here” _ and then said, “Okay. So, what level of freak-out are you at right now/ Like I-need-to-get-back-in-the-suit freak-out or the kind where if I talk to you it might actually help calm you down?”

Bruce blinked. “I don’t know. I mean, my body processes things faster now, because of the Other Guy, so whatever was in that ray might wear off soon.”

_ Or not it might not and what if I’m stuck like this forever and once I’m not so exhausted then nothing will keep me from transforming again and then I’ll really be a time bomb and what’s gonna happen after— _

He swallowed hard and pressed his hands over his eyes, hoping that he could squeeze the panic out of his brain. Stars waved across the backs of his eyelids.

Tony’s voice was quiet. “I really want to help, you know.”

“I know.”

“Can you please just sit down? That would be super helpful for, like, my stress levels if nothing else if I don’t have to worry about you wiping out.”

Bruce made a noncommittal noise, leaning heavier against the side of the door.

Tony sighed. “Okay, I’ll back off. But please give it some consideration is all I’m saying.”

Bruce was still shaking, either leftover shivering from his run-in with a frigid river or just from the tension that was balled up in his limbs. The quinjet had never felt so small before, and he clung to the wisps of fresh—if chilly—air that were still coming through the wide-open door.

A few moments passed, and either the effects were wearing off or Bruce was just drop dead exhausted, because sitting down was starting to feel like maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea after all…

And then his body, not his mind, made the decision for him, and Bruce suddenly found himself curled into a seat, shivering hands gripping the edges as he lost the battle to stay upright.

Tony was watching all this, because of course he was. “Next time we’ll bring a towel.”

Bruce nodded. Or, he thought he did. He didn’t really feel connected to his body anymore.

“Is it okay if I join you?” It was just a simple question, but Bruce froze up anyway. Tony immediately backed down, spreading his hands. “Never mind. It’s fine.”

“No,” and Bruce was surprised he could get the word out, but kept going before the power of speech slipped by him again. “You were in the suit all day fighting just as much as I was, go ahead.” He clenched and unclenched his hand around the edge of the chair for a moment, and then added, “Just, maybe… over there?”

Tony nodded, the flash of something that Bruce couldn’t exactly identify unconcealed on his face as he crossed over and sat down in the seat across from Bruce.

For a second, they just looked at each other. Then Tony glanced up at the ceiling, then back down, twisted his fingers around each other, and tilted his head at Bruce.

“So… nice weather we’re having.”

Bruce gave a surprised laugh.

“Wow, you’re easier to amuse than I thought.” Tony’s smile was suddenly too much, and Bruce shifted uncomfortably in his seat before making a kind of hand-wavy motion that didn’t really mean anything.

“I’m really sorry about this,” Bruce started, and Tony instantly sat up, ready to protest, but Bruce was already continuing. “I’m not trying to be…” The right words slipped out of reach, and he gestured vaguely to himself. “I just, I can’t… just, right now—”

“Bruce,” Tony said. “You were hit with a panic ray. And you were already a very panicky person. I get it.”

Bruce buried his head in his hands and responded with an incoherent noise. He wasn’t even sure himself what he was trying to say.

Neither did Tony, but that didn’t stop him from giving a solemn nod. “I hear you.”

Bruce’s laugh this time was cracked, but it did momentarily smooth out the rough patches that were spiking through his brain. ‘Thanks for that; you’re making it harder to stay freaked out.”

“I try.” Tony shrugged, but his eyes were still hovering at Bruce’s own.

Bruce slowly shook his head before speaking. “I haven’t felt like this in a long time, you know. Like at first, after the accident, every little thing would—” he splayed his hands out in a  _ poof _ gesture. “It took probably way too long to figure out how to get a hand on that steering wheel—and now look, I’m back to square one.”  _ And it had been so  _ easy _ , too _ … that was the part that really got him.

Tony looked thoughtful. “There’s a thing they tell you in therapy; it’s something about how you can’t measure your recovery against anyone elses’.” He paused. “Obviously I’m a very competitive person, so that doesn’t always work out, but even I have to say that in your case… I mean, you  _ really _ can’t compare to anyone else.”

Bruce felt a small grin curving at the corners of his mouth. “When this wears off, I might just want to give you a hug.”

Tony’s answering grin was swift. “I might just take you up on that.”

* * *

It was a little under an hour later when the rest of the team finally made it back to the jet. By that time, Bruce had managed to steal a few little glimpses of sleep here and there, which was probably helping in letting the rest of the effects fade away.

He was awake when the others came inside, though—lying on the seat under a blanket Tony had dug up from someplace with his eyes shut and his breathing slow, but awake. That was probably why none of the team said anything to him as they slipped by, and why they were trying so hard to be quiet (Natasha and Clint could at least be quiet-er when they wanted to, but the Hulk heightened Bruce’s senses even when he wasn’t huge and green, and he could still pick out their muffled movements… and Steve: forget it). Bruce couldn’t exactly blame them for not wanting to get close enough to check that he was, in fact, not sleeping—that was the appropriate reaction when told that the guy who could transform into the Hulk was currently affected by a… well, Tony hadn’t been wrong when he’d called it a “panic ray.”

He heard Steve’s voice first, over the sound of a  _ shiiiiing _ and a  _ click _ as he slung the shield off his back and leaned it against a chair. “Sorry we’re back so late. There were some… messes to clean up.”

Tony’s voice in response; it came from the pilot’s seat, where he’d been fiddling around with something at the controls. “Yeah, I can tell.”

“Surprising how much you can get used to having the god of thunder backing your ass.” That was Natasha, a hint of amusement in her tone.

“We’ll have to file our grievances with Asgard.” Tony paused. “A lot of people might just’ve freaked him out more, anyway.”

It was obvious that the “him” Tony was talking about wasn’t Thor.

“So it happened like you said?” Natasha asked. “He’s still sleeping it off?”

“Yeah,” Tony said. “Keep your distance.”

There was the shuffling of feet, and then Steve spoke again, and Bruce could feel eyes boring into him.

“But he’s not gonna…”

Something thunked up by the control panel. “No, jeez. I just meant he’s a little jumpy and having all of you piled around him isn’t gonna help.”

Bruce was finding it even harder to keep his eyes closed, but the thought that everyone in this jet was probably looking at him right now was motivation enough. There were some conversations he just couldn’t have when he’d been amped to eleven since the fight had ended and his nerves were shot.

Somewhat unexpectedly, the next voice to speak was Clint’s. “Poor guy.”

Bruce could  _ hear _ the looks the others were shooting him.

“What?” Clint shifted, and Bruce got the odd feeling he was being pointed at. “Tell me none of you are looking at this and  _ not _ wanting to go stick some arrows through whoever thought building that ray was a good idea.”

_ Uh, what? _

“I’m with you there,” Natasha said, and Bruce only felt his confusion deepen. “Only I think I’d stick with a more effective weapon.”

“Oh, you want effective?” There was the sound of footsteps, and both Clint and Natasha walked away to the back of the ship, having an animated argument under their breaths.

He could still feel Steve looking at him—Tony, too. Part of him really wanted to see what was crossing their expressions right now, but he kept his eyes shut and his body curled over.

_ Breathe in… breathe out. _

“He’s kind of cute when he’s asleep like that,” Tony half-whispered. “Don’t you think?”

There was a rustling from Steve’s spot. “You do know he’s awake, right?”

_ Fuck.  _

Tony must’ve stood up out of his chair, because there was the whirring sound of something spinning away followed by footsteps as he joined Steve. “What? No, he’s not—he was out cold last time I checked—”

“I guess you didn’t check hard enough, then—”

The sounds of their voices gradually faded away into background noise, and Bruce smiled to himself with his eyes still closed.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
